


Temptation

by kekneki



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, fancy party with fancy clothes, off-canon gil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 14:38:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6662800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kekneki/pseuds/kekneki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The climax of the musical piece hit, and that was her cue to stand back up. Rod was in the zone, and he needed every ounce of concentration to make the ending truly sting. All eyes were on Rod, with the exception of hers; she had a different target in mind, and Gilbert could only minimally imagine where she was going next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> for any of you who followed me in 2012 (2011 if you follow my fanficnet) you would know i wrote a lot of bad hetalia fics  
> well i dont do that anymore  
> im not really INTO hetalia much anymore  
> but i had a weird muse and i wrote this  
> this is also a (surprise!) gift for someone who i call my nyoo  
> and who is brutal pruhun trash  
> and i am inclined to agree  
> pruhun is my hetero guilty pleasure tbh (especially with nyoo's interpretation of gil. sdjfhskfhdf gimme)

A gentle blink to wipe away that imaginary fairy dust in Gilbert’s eyes was all he really needed to clear his sights. As if his night couldn’t get any more eventful, his own mellow presence was accompanied by something a bit more lively; something that would thaw out his normally frozen and immobile heart into a bi of a jig. Sheepishly, he took another sip of the beer that gave a calm, cool sting to his hand that held it. The sip was quiet, like his disposition, but the excitement that came from the taste of the alcohol couldn’t bear to surpass the excitement of his thoughts.

The nervous motion of adjusting his tie after setting down the glass followed. He looked sharp and he knew it, but god forbid he showed any sort of un-classy egotistical behavior. He had this weird illusion of being overly suave and impressive; mainly just to give off enough of an intimidating vibe to keep undesirable people away from him. The majority took that with a grain of salt anyways, with Ludwig being a special, _special_ exception to that rule. Ludwig had departed from the lonely table only a couple of minutes ago with a stoic nod of ‘good luck’ and a _clink_ of their beers together. Damn, he really _did_ feel like a crotchety old man compared to Ludwig sometimes.

The ice cracked within the beer as the glass stood motionless on the crisp tablecloth. Gilbert’s fingers tapped to the rhythm of Rod’s piano on the elevated stage at the end of the lobby. It was almost out of character for Rod to sink to a more jazz-esque or swing-level style of playing, but perhaps he drank too much to know the difference. Considering that it was pretty late into the night, Gilbert wouldn’t be shocked. As for himself; Gilbert felt surprisingly sober, but he would be shitfaced the second he opened his mouth for any meaningful reason. Even so, for the time being, he didn’t really feel like opening his mouth, so he sat tight.

Though, the sight of a certain silhouette out of the corner of his eye instantly caught his attention. He didn’t turn his head yet, though; that would be too obvious. The very edge of the glass quickly hit his lips in distraction as the figure slowly moved in his limited vision. The dim lights did no justice in hiding Gilbert’s obvious embarrassment, and he knew this for a fact. He would stubbornly withhold his coolness, and totally pretend he wasn’t watching the person entering the hall so fashionably late.

The red dress made her figure vibrant and appealing to the eyes. Her hips were easily highlighted as the fabric basically hugged her body; it was almost as if the dress itself was making love to her (and that metaphor may or may not make Gilbert only _slightly_ jealous). He knew very well why she picked that particular dress; Gilbert didn’t care what she wore, but something that was subtly attention-grabbing was enough to make him grit his teeth. He knew eyes were feasting upon her figure, and all he could do was silently curse himself for declining the invitation to arrive late.

The slits were a tease as they revealed her upper thighs. It’d be a sin for him to stare, but he couldn’t help himself. She was such a damn show-off sometimes, but it was all just to spite him in both the more irritating and cutest way possible. Seriously, it was almost like the dress was made for her personally, and Gilbert wouldn’t doubt that it was. The breeze from her steps made the dress billow in just the right way to further flatter her figure, and the clicking of her heels on the floor was an attractive sound in itself. She swayed toward the stage, and it took every bit of willpower for Gilbert not to jump up after her.

She sat her pretty little behind next to Rod, watching his fingers move along the piano keys with significant interest. Gilbert could feel Ludwig’s eyes piercing him from across the room. _Patience_ was the word that Gilbert could read from his lips without Ludwig even opening his mouth. He was always an insightful guy, and Gilbert had endless respect for that. He took his words seriously, only letting his eyes stare holes through Rod’s piano as she sat there quietly.

The climax of the musical piece hit, and that was her cue to stand back up. Rod was in the zone, and he needed every ounce of concentration to make the ending truly sting. All eyes were on Rod, with the exception of hers; she had a different target in mind, and Gilbert could only minimally imagine where she was going next. The noise of her heels resumed; the sound almost rhythmic to the piano (probably on purpose) as she crossed the room. Gilbert took another sip of his beer, only the jolt of his body as the ice hit his lips being the indicator that he needed a refill. In less than half a heartbeat, he was already on his feet.

The suit fit nicely on him, his tie coordinating with his normal aesthetic. His eyes twinkled under the dim, colored lights as he dodged the other tables with his rowdy peers. His dress shoes squeaked lightly along the floor, his dress pants perfectly fitting the form of his legs with each step. His belt remained tight around his waist, but could easily be removed for any quick access, last second emergencies. His jacket was unbuttoned and flowing with his movement, but regardless, he looked pretty appropriately dressed. He made his obligatory pass to the table seating Antonio and Francis, both exchanging subtle smirks with each other when they put two and two together concerning Gilbert’s plans. Ignoring a facetious remark from Francis and nudging Antonio’s foot with his own briefly, he moved onward.

She finally stopped at the table of refreshments, eyeing the wine in front of her eyes and within reach. It was late, and she had already drank a little bit before getting to the main event; perhaps a little more wouldn’t hurt. She was definitely more stable than Gilbert at the moment, and she knew that guy like the back of her frying pan. She gently poured the red wine into her glass, setting the bottle down once she was satisfied with what she had. Gilbert finally passed her by after some encouragement, letting his arm brush gently past hers before he finally stopped in his tracks. He stood snugly next to her with a pouty expression, eyeing the pre-set glasses of beer on the table. He looked like some weird beer connoisseur with his eyes so dead-on to each individually decorated glass (Rod was such a goddamn show-off; the fucking nerve of the guy).

“Gilbert, do you want me to pick for you or something?” She finally opened her mouth, her eyes averting to the one standing next to her. She brushed her own hair back with her fingers, the delicate flower in her hair remaining intact. She was used to Gilbert being stiff like this, but he was obviously abstaining from something.

Gilbert only flinched at the statement, his own eyes looking back at hers. He blinked a few times, and then let his eyes gaze back toward the beer. “No, Liz.” He muttered quietly.

She was a little disappointed; she expected a snarkier answer from him at this time of the night. Though, Elizaveta was fully aware of what she was doing and how it was affecting the other. Frankly, it was amusing to her; she had such a chokehold on him right now, it was completely unreal. “You’ve been staring at that one in the middle for a while.”

Gilbert would let himself get hit by a car before he would admit his eyes were only on it because it showed her reflection. It was specifically, her bust; the dress itself didn’t have a very revealing bust, but the lining of her breasts within the fabric was enough to catch his attention. Though, this time, he didn’t grace her ears with a muttered response; just an obvious swallow of his own drunken nerves.

“Let me.” She put down her own glass of wine, slowly leaning forward to snatch the glass for him. It clicked in her mind as to why he was staring at it for so long, and it gave her that little bout of satisfaction as she picked it up. Though, instead of just handing it to him right off the bat, she kept it for herself at first. She teasingly took a sip, being sure to let her lipstick stain the glass. She wasn’t too big on the taste, but it was the closest she could get to her current desire.

When she handed it to Gilbert, he took the cold glass in his hands slowly. He cursed her under his breath as he sipped it quickly; she was aware of the atmosphere, and _boy_ was she working it.

“I’m sorry for being late.” She nudged him lightly in the side with her own, picking her own glass back up. “The other girls took their time with getting ready.”

“You already smell like wine.” Gilbert commented. “It overpowers the smell of the beer on the glass.”

“It’d be a sin to not smell like wine by now.” She mused, taking a sip of her current glass. “After all, you reek of beer like always. But it’s got a classier feel tonight.”

“Is it the suit?”

“Probably.”

Gilbert found himself chuckling, but heavily holding back from speech. “You know I’m a suit man.”

“I do. And you know I’m a suit girl.”

Shit. She was onto him. “It’d be a sin not to know that.” He mocked her earlier statement, taking a heartier sip of the beer.

She raised an eyebrow at him playfully. “You’re already slurring, Gil. Did your keeper not monitor you tonight?”

“West has his own affairs to attend to. I’m no dog of his.” Gilbert’s snarky tone began to rise due to the tension, but he had to keep himself in check. “What about you? You usually have mixed company at your feet.”

“They’re… around.” She took another sip. “We met up for makeup and drinks, then sort of parted ways when we got here.”

“The usual…”

“But Gil.” She brushed up a bit closer to him. “We did agree on something.”

Gilbert nearly choked on his drink. She was truly testing him now. Gilbert was completely and utterly shitfaced, and he knew that Liz knew better than he even knew himself or would admit. He could almost hear Ludwig mocking him now in his subconscious, but he ignored the imaginary voice in his head. “On what…?”

“We all showed up together, like the awesome you expected.” She teased. “But… we all agreed not to leave together.”

He nearly dropped his glass. The words and the implication were so subtle and innocent, but he didn’t even have to look Elizaveta in the eyes to know what she meant. Out of the corner of his eye, he could just about see Antonio peering past his own drink in Gilbert’s direction. This was the time of judgment for the silver-haired man. With an especially gorgeous young lady pressing up against him, with the respect of his closest companions at stake, he had to play his cards right.

“Rod’s song is almost over, you know.” With her free hand, she managed to link her arm with Gilbert’s, despite his apparent stiffness. “We could dance until the end. Or we could leave if you’re not fond of the attention at such a… sensitive moment.”

She was right; the song was getting slower, and the lights were getting lower. Some of the younger guests had already begun to get ready to leave. Rod looked exhausted at the piano, and would probably finally sit down properly for a drink afterwards. “…You know I’m not really one for dances.”

“I should’ve figured.” She squeezed his arm. “You’re not one to show off what’s exclusively yours.”

He caught onto the euphemism really quick. Her fingers began to press into his arm as she spoke, and it took Gilbert more effort than it should have to reply to her. Again, he was silent.

“Are you shy because you’re drunk?”

“You know my rhythm sucks in general, right? I’m not Roderich.”

“You’re not. You’re even better.”

“Then finish your wine.”

She nodded, sipping what was left of her wine in a swift motion. Gilbert was just about done with his beer already, and set his glass down on the table. The piano almost acted like a countdown to the end of the night; that cliché moment of ‘make the final decision before midnight’ that would be witnessed in shitty love stories. Perhaps this whole scenario was a shitty love story, and this was one of Gilbert’s notorious drunken dreams to be followed by a killer hangover. He shrugged the thought, his concerns interrupted with Elizaveta dragging him onto the small dance floor.

His steps were clumsy, and she was a little off beat, but what else would b expected of the two drunken fools? Elizaveta enjoyed his company, and Gilbert was hesitant to lead. He could feel his two friends staring holes through him, giving the obligatory thumbs up in a _yeah bro fucking GET SOME_ sort of manner. He ignored it; he was too cloudy to pay attention to the sneers from across the room. He was too focused on the lovely girl in his grip. His hands rested awkwardly on her waist, but it was enough to pass for elegance. Elizaveta’s arms were around his neck, perhaps a bit tightly, but enough to hold on. He sheepishly keep his eyes glued to wall whereas hers stayed on his shoulder directly. He soon broke the wall contact, looking down at her blushed, joyous face.

A smile played on her lips and Gilbert was hesitant to mimic. Her plan was working, and she furthered her teasing by gently pressing her body just _slightly_ more against Gilbert’s. The gesture of her breasts pushing against him was enough to make his heart skip; she was trying so hard, he could feel the lining of her bra through his dress shirt. While his hands remained on her waist, he knew he had the allowance and potential to wander further, but he decided to remain (for the most part) discreet. Elizaveta definitely wasn’t having it, especially when she rested her lips on Gilbert’s neck.

He would die before admitting how much of a temptress she was to him. Even if Ludwig tied him down, he never would. Gilbert had too much pride in himself to do, but he’d confess his sins to Elizaveta in a heartbeat. Her lips pressing light, butterfly kisses on the skin were enough to rile him. His red eyes flickered in the low light, and goose bumps formed quickly on the back of his neck and spread. His legs got a bit weaker; he desired a more comfortable, accessible position. Something that would let her access more of his body, while he would have the same rights to hers. His hands remained in place, yet the temptation to unhook her bra through the dress was too high.

The music grew slower and quieter; time was running out. She hummed into his neck and he swallowed a lump that felt bigger than his fist. He shifted, pushing her lips away from his neck, if only for a second, so he could cool himself off. One hand left her waist and went to caress her cheek, his fingers pressing lightly to get her attention. Elizaveta knew what was coming next, and the contact was made seconds later. Gilbert put all of his pent-up, beer-soaked tension and frustration into that kiss. His teeth lightly pressed on her lip, but she only responded with quick flick of her tongue to Gilbert’s lips before pulling away.

“That’s funny. Normally I kiss first.” Elizaveta still teased him, keeping up the rhythm of the ending song.

His eyes rested easily onto hers. She wasn’t fooling anyone; he could feel her hips pressing onto his. “You seem to be more in a hurry than me, y’know.”

“Is it that obvious.”

_Yes, Liz._ “Yeah.” His eyes averted to Rod; he was concluding. “I wanna get going.”

Elizaveta pulled away, taking Gilbert by the hand in a quick motion. Gilbert raised an eyebrow as she led him by the heel; she went in a completely different direction than he expected. The exit, the entrance _whatever_ Rod would call it, was the complete opposite direction. She started going toward another one of the halls to the surprise of Gilbert (and Antonio and Francis, who were still watching and would remind Gilbert of his dance floor feat in the morning). He looked at her, sort of taken aback by her ambition.

“Liz-“

“What?”

“Where are we going?”

“Gil, did you really think I’d let you take me home?”

Gilbert smirked a little. “Is this pride in the works, or are you just hopped up?”

“Both, but more the latter.”

Rod’s place had more guest rooms than Elizaveta ever cared to count. He had so many, he wouldn’t notice if one was… conveniently ransacked. She dragged Gilbert towards the back, away from any piano music or other guests; more into the private realm of things. Elizaveta found a room, pulling Gilbert inside and putting him aside just long enough for her to close and lock the door. Gilbert recognized the room, as usual; she always picked this room because Rod never checked it. The sheets were always clean, condoms always snug in the nightstand, the moonlight shining through the window at just the right angle…

“Liz, you’re already going for my tie.”

“If you give someone a present, you shouldn’t unwrap it for them.”

_Damn_.

Though, the tie was soon tossed aside, and she went for the buttons on his shirt. Meanwhile, Gilbert saw the chance to finally go for her bra. “If that’s how you’re gonna be…”

“Go for it. I’ve been wanting to ditch the damn thing since I put it on.”

That earned a chuckle from Gilbert as he unhooked the bra underneath the dress. Elizaveta gave a small sigh of relief as he did, pushing his jacket off his shoulders and letting it hit the floor. Gilbert debated on caring for the suit properly, but now wasn’t the time to think about the materialistic things. His hands moved down to the slits of her dress, and his fingers stroked her thighs. “Did you wear this dress to spite me?”

“Why else would I wear it?” She mused, her hands inching towards his belt.

Gilbert shrugged. “But you would get my attention no matter what you would wear.”

“I know. But your expressions are priceless.” Her fingers fiddled with the buckle.

“Liz… the dress. How am I removing this?” His hands wandered her body, as an invitation, but also in confusion; he didn’t find a zipper.

“You have to slip it off. Pull it up and off me.”

“Seriously?” Gilbert grimaced a little. “And here I was thinking you would make it easy for being so hasty.”

“Sexy comes at a price, Gil. Chop chop.”

Gilbert huffed, pulling his hands away to get a grip on the dress. Something told him that Elizaveta was full of shit and she just wanted to give him hell for the fun of it. At the end of the day, though, whatever would get her undressed would be content enough for Gilbert. She lifted her arms up as he pulled the fabric up her body, praising and praying silently to himself as she was finally revealed to him. The unhooked bra dangled lazily on Elizaveta’s shoulders, and she discarded it to the floor the second Gilbert did the same to her dress.

“Was that so hard?” Again, with the teasing. Even with only being in her underwear, she still had enough snark to feed the hungry and drinkless. Instantly, she unhooked Gilbert’s belt with her fingers. Before she had a chance to pull it off him, Gilbert had already swooped her off her feet.

“Gee, don’t do all the work, Liz.” He set her down on her back on the bed. “Wouldn’t wanna tire you out so early in the game.”

“I think I’m fine.” She rolled her eyes at him, looking up from the bed. “What about you? You pulled off my dress.”

“Yeah. I unwrapped the sweets. Let me sample.” As expected, his hands already went for her breasts. His lips, however, went to her neck (as probable revenge from the earlier dance floor antics, honestly). Elizaveta let him do what he wanted; it was the only way to go along with it. She didn’t mind or anything, but she knew Gilbert was absolutely _going_ for her. Again, she had so much power over Gilbert, and she would flaunt it without a care in the world.

“M-Mmph, Gil, be gentler.” His hands still toyed with her breasts, his fingers rolling over her nipples carelessly. Perhaps he pinched a little too hard, and it caused her to whine.

Gilbert mumbled a sheepish apology before kissing the spot in return, moving his hands.

“Here, take off my belt.”


End file.
